


Lucky

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Allergies, Established Relationship, Kittens, M/M, Mick is a Giant Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5826250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been married four years, though Lisa likes to say they’ve been married fourteen. Despite all that time, Mick still can’t say he knows everything about Len, and he’s sure that goes both ways. He prefers it this way; otherwise, where’s the fun?</p><p>For example, Mick’s willing to bet Len’s got no idea he’s married to an animal lover. Yeah that’s right: Mick Rory loves animals. Just ‘cause he doesn’t have time for them anymore doesn’t mean he loves them any less. Cats included.</p><p>He specifies cats because there is no way he’s not helping that pitiful ball of fur wrapped in grime. Not tonight. Not ever.</p><p> </p><p>[Anonymous asked: Len is allergic to cats, Mick brings home a kitten.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Mick Rory + Kittens = Beauty. It's just simple math man I don't make the rules.

They’ve been married four years, though Lisa likes to say they’ve been married fourteen. Despite all that time, Mick still can’t say he knows everything about Len, and he’s sure that goes both ways. He prefers it this way; otherwise, where’s the fun?

For example, Mick’s willing to bet Len’s got no idea he’d married to an animal lover. Yeah that’s right: Mick Rory loves animals. Just ‘cause he doesn’t have time for them anymore doesn’t mean he loves them any less. Cats included.

He specifies cats because there is no way he’s not helping that pitiful ball of fur wrapped in grime. Not tonight. Not ever.

Holstering his heat gun, Mick trudges to the unassuming box with purpose. Spring rain’s about to come down in buckets, so he removes his coat and bends down as fast as he can.

The box is worn cardboard, with  _Can’t Feed_ written over a FRAGILE label in faded black Sharpie. This kitten, shivering and mewing as much as its tiny body can, is the only one left. Because of the dirt, Mick can’t tell what breed it is, but the soulful honey brown and green of its eyes are more than enough for him. With a touch gentler than anyone would expect from Heat Wave, Mick scoops it into his coat and wraps it up.

The kitten mews again. Mick replies, “Yeah, buddy. You’re with me.”

Judging by the ruined newspapers in the box, Mick figures this kitten just needs a warm bed and food. Lucky them—Len’s got a thing for tuna sandwiches, and Lisa’s very particular about buying milk. Far as that goes, the kitten’s set.

Carefully, Mick climbs into his stolen car and deposits his precious cargo in his lap. The kitten still mews, but quiets down when it gets a nice scratch on its head.

“Stay put,” Mick mutters, “not a long drive, but I can’t have you gettin’ lost between the seats.”

* * *

As expected, Len’s eyes snap immediately to the bundle in Mick’s arms. His body, relaxed over the couch, tenses on reflex.

“What is that?” he asks, affecting nonchalance.

Mick replies, “What’s it look like, Lenny?”

“Something that shouldn’t be here.”

“Says you. Keep reading your gossip magazine;“ (it’s actually a high-end scientific article) "I’m givin’ this one a bath.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah,” and Mick shuts the bathroom door. The kitten starts. “Don’t worry about him, buddy. He’s always like that.”

For the most part, the kitten behaves as Mick scrubs away the grime from its fur. Turns out it’s a boy, so he’s promptly named Lucky because he happened to be in a spot Mick was running to after losing the cops.

Turns Lucky’s an orange tabby who’s way too skinny for his own good. He’s also incredibly vocal, mewing and trilling all through his bath, followed by loudly purring while Mick dries him off and wraps him in a dry hand towel. Afterwards, his purring continues as he’s conveyed to the apartment’s kitchenette, snuggling against Mick’s body heat along the way.

Mick won’t deny it—his heart melts.

Len lasts a full minute after Mick’s return before he rolls onto his feet and approaches Lucky like a dubious mother-in-law would her kid’s questionable spouse. Mick snorts at the image while he grabs the milk and warms it in the microwave a few seconds.

“Where’d you find it?” asks Len at last, “And more importantly,  _Mick_ , why did you bring it here?”

“His name’s Lucky,” Mick adds when Len opens his mouth, “Can it, Snart. You pick up your strays, I pick up mine.”

“My ‘strays’ are useful to us, they have value,” Len argues, bracing his hands on the countertop, “we can’t keep this thing, Mick.”

“Didn’t say we would,” Mick says, placing the tiny bowl of milk in front of Lucky’s towel. The kitten eagerly climbs up and laps away. Scratching him behind the ears, Mick says, “I’m dropping him off at a shelter tomorrow morning.”

Len scowls. “Didn’t think you were the type for…” he gestures at Lucky, “something like this.”

Mick knows he needs Lenny’s okay for this. Surefire way to gain the sympathy of Captain Cold? “He was left in a shitty box, alone and starving. Whatever brothers and sisters he had were long gone.” Something in Len’s eyes softens. His lips curl down too. “I wasn’t gonna leave him.”

Len taps his finger against the counter’s wood. “…just for tonight,” he relents.

Mick chuckles, “Thought so.”

He gets another scowl for that. 

“Make sure he’s no—” Len pauses, wrinkling his nose. Mick raises his eyebrow. “He’s not—no—”

A loud sneeze escapes him. Mick’s other eyebrow joins its partner. Len sniffles, eyes watering. He’s glaring at Lucky like the kitten’s personally offended him.

Oh.  _Oh._

Mick’s night just got a whole lot better.

“What was that, Snart?” he asks with a shit-eating grin

If his allergy was life-threatening, Len would’ve said something. Instead he gripes, “Make sure he’s not in—” another sneeze.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“ _Mick—achoo!_ ”

“Uh-huh. Why don’t you head over there, Lenny.” Len turns, but then Mick catches his wrist. “Wait!”

“What?” he sounds stuffed and everything. Lucky is a wonderful creature.

Mick cups Len’s cheek and pulls him in for a quick kiss. 

It’s not until after that Len realizes his husband’s touching him with the same hand that’s been petting Lucky.

“You son of a— _achoo_!”

“Yeah,” Mick smirks, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> LET THIS SHIP RISE
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
